


Interludes

by zaffrin



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Fisting, Pegging, Smut, Spanking, and yet here we are, basically lots of sex, is not a tag I ever thought I would use, light BDSM themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:42:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23313334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaffrin/pseuds/zaffrin
Summary: A series of smutty interludes between the Doctor and the Master for each episode of series twelve.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 181
Kudos: 275





	1. The Wardrobe

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I am ripping off my own thasmin fic idea 'Stolen Moments'. Everyone mind your business.

She hadn’t been expecting this, but then often the best things did happen unexpectedly. 

O is surprisingly demanding in the way he kisses her, one hand clenched tight in her hair and the other on her hip keeping her pinned against the Tardis wardrobe wall they’d stumbled back into. It occurs to her that this is the first time she’d done this - kissing - in this regeneration, and she decides immediately that she’s quite partial to it this time around. 

Especially with O.

His hands are sliding beneath her clothes, pushing under the unbuttoned shirt she’d thrown on and smoothing up over her torso, groping a handful of - oh. Breasts. She keeps forgetting about those. 

The Doctor breaks from O’s mouth, gasping, and he looks into her eyes as he feels her up quite enthusiastically beneath her clothes.

“I’ve wanted you since the first time we met,” he’s murmuring to her hotly, and the Doctor leans back against the wall, panting, and stares at him.

“But - I wasn’t - I’m not the same as I was then. I was a  _ man,”  _ she emphasises.

“You’re still you,” O breathes simply, and the Doctor inhales sharply, the words making her hearts quicken. Humans usually had trouble getting their heads around a change of regeneration - let alone a change of gender to go with it, and yet here was O, saying things like that as if it were the most simple thing in the world. She thrusts her hands into his hair and drags his mouth back in to hers, kissing him deeply as she moans softly. When he slips his hand down and slides it beneath the waistband of her trousers she doesn’t stop him, leaning back into the wall and parting her thighs, moaning into his mouth when his fingers slip down and touch her where she is wet and aching and  _ new.  _

He’s gentle with her, his fingers probing and delving though slick folds - wet. That was another new sensation. Her mouth breaks from his in a gasp when he presses a finger up inside her, and she clutches tight to his hair, eyes squeezing shut as she absorbs the new sensation. She likes it, the Doctor decides after a few seconds, as O strokes her carefully inside, nudging up against her clit and making her gasp and gasp. 

Eyes snap open to lock onto his dark ones, and fumbling a bit, limbs turned a little shaky from his ministrations, she shoves one of her own hands down inside O’s trousers finding him silky and hard beneath her touch. She wraps her hand around him - smaller hands this time, she remembers… or perhaps O was particularly large. She squeezes him as another rush of pleasure goes straight to her core at that, making her clench around O’s questing fingers. That’s new too, and it makes both of them gasp as she starts to stroke him, her hand matching the rhythm of O’s fingers.

When they come it’s with their eyes locked onto each other, and the Doctor doesn’t remember the last time a human made her feel this good. 

—


	2. London

His Tardis isn’t difficult to find - he hadn’t even made an effort to hide it, simply parking it neatly between two houses in the street just outside the Adelaide gallery, and the door isn’t even locked when she barges in. She lets it swing shut with a bang behind her. 

He is shirtless, stood over by his console, and the sight makes her falter a little, inhaling sharply at all that bare skin (so new and toned and beautiful -  _ no!  _ Getting distracted) before she realises his lack of attire is so he can dab at the bleeding wound on his shoulder with a wad of tissue. 

He scowls at her as she walks over to him, taking the tissue from his hand and tossing it aside, picking up a fresh piece and pouring some alcohol from the little bottle next to him onto it before pressing it to his shoulder. He hisses, and the corners of her mouth lift up in sadistic amusement. 

“Keep still,” she snaps when he flinches for a third time as she prods at it. “No bullet. Just a graze.” 

He shoves her away finally, taking the tissue from her and clamping it to his arm instead. 

“Why did you come after me?” He snaps - tetchy. In quite a bit of pain then. “Because I know it’s not to fix my arm.”

“No,” she agrees, and frowns. “Why did you do it?”

“Do what? Plant a bomb on the plane? Shrink all those people? Fuck you when I was O? You’ll need to be more specific, love.” 

He started smirking at the last one, and the Doctor feels rage bubble inside her. All of it, she wants to say, but clenches her jaw tight and chooses something else. 

“Make me kneel.”

His face breaks into a grin, and he stalks closer to her. “Why not?”

“What?” She says, standing her ground, “was it because you thought you won? Or did you just want to humiliate me?”

He stops right in front of her, and his eyes are dark, a little rage swirling in them as they pierce into her own. “I haven’t lost yet.”

“Neither have I.”

“And surely you know by now these games always end with one of us on our knees. I was just hurrying along the process.”

She falters, thrown. “Wha -“

The Doctor cuts off when the Master sinks to his knees before her, his hands lifting to her hips, nimble fingers un-tucking her shirt and popping open her trousers, peeling them down her thighs and -

“ _ Oh -“ _

“That’s my name,” he mumbles against her, cruel smirk pressed into her clit. “Don’t wear it out.”

—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters up to start with because these are short, but there'll be one for each episode and I'll try and get them up fairly quickly. Comments are always hugely appreciated! <3


	3. The Steam Room

The Doctor is  _ not smiling  _ as she steps into the sauna and firmly shuts the glass door behind her. She is still very angry about the whole Kasaavin thing (not to mention the other thing...) and she is absolutely not smiling at the sight of the Master lounging on one of the benches in just a towel.

“You’re overdressed,” he tells her as she sonics the door locked and walks over.

“At least I was invited.” 

“Touché.”

She comes to a stop in front of him, hands on her hips.

“You escaped then.”

He smiles at her, fingers toying idly with the front of his towel. “Did you doubt me?”

She shrugs. “What are you doing here? Gonna try and blow up the spa to spite me for saving my friends on the plane?”

The Master smiles serenely, mirth dancing in his eyes. “Explosives are overrated.”

“Then what do you want?”

Another smirk. “Join me.”

She snorts as she shrugs her coat off. It  _ really  _ is hot in here. “No thanks.”

“I just meant now.”

“I know what you meant,” she says testily. “And I said no thanks.”

“Then why are you undressing?”

“It’s warm.” Her trousers slide down her legs, hit the floor with a thunk. 

“You’re staying then.”

Her tops next, over her head, followed by her bra. “Absolutely not.”

He nods at her knickers as she steps closer. “Those too.”

The Doctor pushes them down her thighs, stepping out of them neatly and taking two more steps forward as the Master sits up and tosses his towel aside so the Doctor can place one knee on either side of him on the bench and lower herself into his lap.

He reaches for her chest but she bats his hands away, planting them on her hips instead and flashing him a warning glare to keep them there as she reaches between them for his cock, already half hard. 

“You look good naked this time,” he comments as she strokes him to full hardness impatiently. “Tits are a bit small though. And you’re too skinny.”

The Doctor quirks a ‘make-up-your-mind’ eyebrow at him, squeezing him in her hand, a pointed reminder that he doesn’t exactly  _ feel _ like he has any complaints.

“I don’t like your chest hair,” she tells him. “Or your beard. And you’re too muscly.”

“Flimsy insults.”

“Bit like your last evil plan.”

The teasing glint to his eye vanishes at that, and then he’s gripping her hips, lifting her up and trying to pull her down on his erection.

“Wait!” She snaps, resisting and falling back on his thighs. “Just let me - let me do it.”

“Fine,” the Master sighs, relaxing his grip on her but nudging his hips up, cock bobbing impatiently. The Doctor shifts over him, one hand braced on his shoulder for balance and the other guiding him to her entrance as she lifts herself over him before starting to sink down. It stretches and aches and she’s panting by the time she’s got his tip inside her, moving trembling fingers to her clit to rub at herself, easing the pain. 

“Hurry up,” the Master complains, fingers flexing on her hips. 

“ _ Wait _ ,” she repeats. 

She starts to sink slowly down on him further, biting down on her bottom lip, brow furrowed as her nails dig into his shoulder. She gets about a third of him inside herself, before the Master’s patience snaps and he grips hold of her hard, pulling down at the same time as he bucks his hips up, plunging deep into her. The Doctor cries out, collapsing forward against his chest as pain flashes through her, the intense feelings ricocheting through her body. She’s angry at first, whimpering slightly as she lays panting against him, before she takes a deep breath, the aching inside her easing, and starts to laugh. 

When she pushes herself upright so she can look into his face, the Master is staring at her like she’s mad. 

“What?” He says.

She thinks about how absurd this is, her and him, always coming back to this, lifetimes and regenerations, no matter what they do to each other, an endless cycle of them fucking each other over and  _ fucking  _ each other.

“Nothing,” says the Doctor, and shifts on top of him, gasping a little and threading one hand into his hair. She grips tight, twisting, listening to him hiss. “Fuck me then,” she says. 

—


	4. New York

“I met Nikolai Tesla today,” the Doctor mumbles, head on the Master’s bare chest as he traces patterns over her back with the tips of his fingers where they lie tangled in bedsheets in the dingy little hotel room the master had got them in nineteenth century New York. She feels a little guilty over lying to her friends about needing to go back for something she left in Tesla’s lab to instead hurry to the address the Master had pressed into her head. She doesn’t know why he hadn’t just taken her back to his Tardis. She doesn’t know why he’d bothered showing up here  _ at all _ . 

“Who?”

“You’ve never heard of him?”

“Human?”

“Mm,” she confirms. 

“Then why would I have heard of him?”

She huffs a little against his chest. “You recently spent seventy-seven years here,” she mumbles. “Must’ve learnt  _ some things _ about the human race.”

“I spent as much of that time as was possible drunk.”

The Doctor sighs. “Of course you did.”

“Only way to tolerate this stinking primitive little rock.”

“He was an inventor,” she says, ignoring his insults, “he basically kick started humanity’s technological age - he had an incredible mind - and I mean  _ incredible _ \- the things he dreamt up -”

“Ugh,” the Master scoffs, cutting off her excited rambles, “Don’t tell me you’ve got a  _ crush _ .”

She frowns, shifting where she lays draped over him. “So what if I have? He was very handsome as well,” she muses. Not that she ever went for looks nor were they what made Tesla so attractive to her, but she never could resist winding her oldest friend up when the opportunity presented itself. 

“He’s a  _ human _ ,” the Master says with notable disgust.

“He’s brilliant.”

The Master doesn't reply, and the Doctor presses a small smile into his chest. The hand tracing patterns on her skin flattens against her lower back, pulling her tight into him and then smoothing down over her backside and thigh, and curling beneath her knee to drag her leg up over his waist. The Doctor shifts her head so she can rest it on his shoulder and look the Master in the eye as his fingers trail back up over the back of her thigh, and the curve of her naked behind before they slip to the heat that’s radiating from her core. Eyes holding his, she opens her mouth and gasps as he delves them through her folds, still slick from their previous encounter and hastily growing wetter again. 

Watching her face intently, the Master moves his other hand to the crook of her knee, hiking her leg up higher, opening her further to him as he presses a finger up into her, quickly followed by a second. The Doctor moans, shifting against him, curling her fingers against his chest where her hand rests as he caresses her deeply inside before withdrawing and stroking her from her entrance to her clit, fingers hot and slick with her arousal spreading her open. He settles on her clit and starts to rub her there rapidly. 

“Come for me,” he purrs, low voice both a wish and command, and the Doctor shudders. 

“It’s gonna - take more than that,” she gasps. 

He smirks. “Is it?” He says, and then her mind is being flooded with images - visions, of her and him together, in a hundred different occasions, a dozen different forms - him beneath her, over her, around her, behind - her mouth open in a scream as he pounds into her, his face looking up at her from between her legs, both of them naked as they fucked under a night sky while a star exploded above them - 

He’s only been touching her for fifty-six and a half seconds, but the Doctor does come, hard, shuddering and gasping against him. 

“You cheated,” she pants, when she’s coming down from her high. She’s already shoved him out of her head. 

“Do you ever expect anything less?” He reminds her, and she sighs. 

“No. I don’t.”

\--


	5. Under the Bridge

“Get off!” She spits when he jumps her from the shadows and pins her to the wall of the bridge she’s passing under along the tow path of the canal. 

“Oh it’s like that is it?” He purrs, pinning her harder, hands going for her trousers. 

“I’m not playing  _ games _ I’m serious - get the fuck off me!” She snaps, shoving him away from her furiously. He stumbles backwards, eyes a little wide as he stares at her. He starts to laugh, and she shoves past him with a growl, making to storm away. The Master catches her wrist, yanking her back. 

“Let go!”

“What’s wrong with you?” 

“Let  _ go!”  _ She growls furiously, trying to twist out of his hold as he wraps his arms around her from behind in an attempt to cease her struggles. He manages to stagger with her back over to the wall. “Not until you talk to me,” he growls back, flipping her round to pin her back to it again so he can look into her face with a frown of bemusement. The Doctor knows he’s seen the angry tears in her eyes when he releases her abruptly, stumbling back a bit in shock. 

She looks him in the eye. “You’re the last person in the universe I’d want to talk to.”

“What’s happened?” He demands, apparently startled enough by her state of upset to forget that he’d usually be gloating about it. 

She turns her face away, wiping angrily at her tears. “Nothing that concerns you.” Or did it? Was this connected, to what the Master claimed to have learnt - what he refused to tell her? 

She’s  _ confused _ and her head hurts and she doesn’t understand any of this - she feels out of control. And the Doctor hates feeling out of control. 

Snapping her eyes back up to his, she furiously blinks back tears and shoves him, his turn to stagger back into the wall, collapsing against it with wide, surprised eyes. She sinks to her knees, shaking hands going to his stupid checkered trousers and ripping them open so she can yank those and his underwear down enough to free his cock. 

“Don’t touch me,” she growls, when his hands go to her hair, and the warning look she shoots him is clearly enough for him to realise she’s serious. He drops his hands back to his sides. “Don’t move and don’t - don’t come until I tell you,” she warns. She thinks he’s going to argue, is surprised when after a suspended second as he stares down at her, he drops his head back against the brick wall with a nod. 

He is only halfway to being erect, but she takes him fully into her mouth, sinking her head down, sucking hard and feeling him harden fully inside her mouth as she grips the base of him with one hand, the other tight on his hip. 

Her hair keeps getting in the way, her knees hurt on the rough ground and her gag reflex turns out to be more sensitive this time around. The Doctor focuses hard on those things, working him with her mouth, trying to block out the rest of the tornado of thoughts hammering around inside her head. She hears him groan above her, hissing out a sound which may have been her name, and registers his hands twitching at his sides. He doesn’t touch her though, letting her do as she pleases with him, letting her rake her nails over the skin of his backside, letting her scrape her teeth over him until he’s jerking against her, and gasping out half-formed pleas of mercy. 

“Doctor - I’m gonna -”

“ _ No, _ ” she releases him from her mouth just long enough to threaten. His hands jerk towards her like they want to grab her hair, but he resists, pressing them instead to the wall behind him, nails curling into the rough brick. 

She licks him from root to tip, revelling in the way he gives a full body shudder, the desperate sound that spills from his open mouth. 

“I -  _ can’t _ -” He chokes out as she takes the tip of him into her mouth again, swirling her tongue around his head. 

_ Not yet,  _ she presses the thought roughly into his head and smiles around his cock at the sound he makes in response.

“Doctor,” he gasps as she sinks down on him again, taking as much of him into her mouth as she can with a moan. “ _ Fuck _ \- I’m - I can’t -“

She glances up to see his eyes squeezed shut, face red and pained, a vein in his neck jumping and sweat building on his forehead…

She releases him, trails a finger up over him. “Come for me,” she breathes, and when she engulfs him again he releases almost instantly, spilling inside her mouth with a hoarse cry of relief.

When he is done, the Doctor lets him slide out from between her lips and stumbles to her feet, staggering over to the canel edge and spitting her mouthful of him out into the water. 

“Nice,” the Master comments, still panting when she turns back round to see him doing his trousers back up. 

“You taste disgusting,” she snipes back, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. “What did you expect me to do - swallow it?”

He leers at her. “You have before.”

The Doctor glares at him, a frown on her face for a moment, before she spins on her heel and stalks off. 

“Don’t want me to return the favour then, love?” He calls after her. 

“I’d rather die,” she snaps over her shoulder. 

\--


	6. Hong Kong

It wasn’t like they hadn’t done this in worse places before, but something about being bent over behind some bins in an dirty alleyway in Hong Kong city at 3am felt particularly depraved. 

“Just get on your hands and knees, it would be easier.” The Master pushes harder on the back of her neck.

“I’m not kneeling on this floor,” she snaps back, knowing she had definitely seen some vomit a few meters back on the way in. “Just get on with it.”

“Fine,” he says, “but don’t blame me if you fall over.”

“So arrogant,” she snorts as she feels the tip of his cock press against her arse. “You’re not that good.”

Then he’s pushing inside her, and he’s stretched her out a little with his fingers but not a lot, not enough that it doesn’t burn and ache as he forces his way into her, slickened only by the wetness he could draw from her cunt, a little of his own spit. 

She either moans or cries, she isn’t sure which, the sound deep and guttural coming from the back of her throat. She needs something to hold onto and she is absolutely not putting her hands on those filthy bins he’s got her bent over by, so she flings one back behind her, grasping a fistful of his coat by his hip. 

“You always took this so well, didn’t you?” He growls, breath hot by her hair. 

“Yeah, just like you did,” she snipes back, words coming out a little stilted as she pants and gasps. 

Once he is inside her, he starts to move, rough, shallow thrusts that make her teeth clatter together as she clenches her jaw tight, and it feels very familiar and yet different at the same time. Despite being full of him there’s an emptiness inside her that hadn’t been there as a man, and she reaches down between her legs with her free hand, fumbling and shoving two fingers inside herself where she is hot and slick. 

The Master grabs her hand, yanking it away and replacing her fingers with his own before withdrawing them and fumbling to let them slip over her clit instead. She gasps, shuddering, grabbing his wrist, digging her nails in hard to soft skin as he massages her there out of time with his thrusts. 

“What are you - doing here anyway?” She gets out between jerks of their bodies, aware it’s a little late to be asking. “Stalking me or something?”

“Maybe,” he replies easily, rough voice a dark growl, totally unashamed. “It’s so rare to catch you away from those stupid little pets of yours, I have to take my chances when they arise.”

“What, exhibitionism not your thing this time around?” She taunts, just because she knows it will throw him. She smiles when she feels his hips give an out of time jerk into her own, fingers pressing harder against her aching clit. 

“Don’t tease, dear,” he growls, shoving a little deeper into her for good measure. She keens, hand twisting in the fabric of his coat. Purple. He was so predictable. 

They don’t speak any more - they never needed to when it came down to this. He comes before her, bending over her small form and pressing his gasps and hoarse cries into her neck, panting and grunting in her ear like an animal as he holds her in place and empties inside her. The Doctor gives a small noise of displeasure, pressing his fingers harder against herself, making him rub her there until she too finds her release a few moments later with a low moan, empty cunt fluttering around nothing as she climaxes hard. 

He is soft by the time he slips out of her, and she wrinkles her nose as he steps away and she stumbles a bit, feeling sticky and aching and filthy back there. The Master grabs her arm, keeping her upright as if on instinct and she yanks it away, shrugging him off and reaching down to pull her trousers back up. 

“Doctor! There’s something you should see here.”

She jumps at the sound of her friend’s voice, shaking fingers flying to the com dot at her neck. 

“Uh - o-on my way Ryan,” she says into it hastily, eyes flickering over to the Master’s smirking face.

“Want a lift?” 

“No thanks.” She scoffs. 

“Okay,” he shrugs, and turning round crosses the alleyway and lifts the lid of a large bin that had been knocked on its side. The Doctor gasps. 

“You - your Tardis was right there the whole time!? And you fucked me  _ here!?”  _ She fumes.

Turning in the doorway he flashes her a wicked grin. “Don’t pretend you don’t love a little depravity. You’re just as bad as me Doctor. You always have been.”

“I’m -  _ nothing _ like you!” She exclaims, but all she gets in response is the Master’s tardis door slammed in her face and the sound of it disappearing from the alleyway as she stands shivering slightly, aching and empty.

\--


	7. The Observation Deck

“Ugh,” the Doctor says when the finger is yanked out of her ear and she’s dragged from her nightmares, before her eyes land on him and she blinks. “I dunno how you’re here but for once, I’m glad you are,” she tells him, “Here, get me out of these so I can rescue my friends,” she yanks at the cuffs holding her arms above her head. 

“Whatever gave you the idea I came to help you, my dear Doctor?” The Master purrs at her. Her eyes widen as he holds up the severed finger, scrutinising it. “Interesting.” He brings it to her face and she shrinks away, face scrunched up in disgust as he lets the fingertip trail over her cheek and down her neck. 

“Ew!” She squeaks, squirming, “get that thing away from me!”

The Master lifts his laughing eyes to hers, untucking her shirt with one hand while the other trails the finger down over her chest. “But there’s so many things I could do with an extra finger,” he leers. He lifts up her shirt, pinning it up round her ribs -

“Don’t you dare!”

She gasps when he touches the disgusting thing to her bare stomach, muscles contracting as she tries to shrink away.

He smirks in amusement. “What does this thing do anyway?”  
  
She swallows as he trails it over her stomach. It’s cold and slightly slimy and she shivers involuntarily. “Nightmares. Creates them - then extracts them.”

“Hmm,” he comments thoughtfully. “Projects into the bran when inserted into the ear. I wonder what would happen if it was inserted -”

“ _Don’t_ finish that sentence,” she warns, but feels her stomach lurch a bit. She is rather at his mercy here, like this, and she hopes he isn’t in one of his more unstable moods. 

The Master is laughing as he pops open the button to her trousers, but his eyes flick up to hers and hold them until she gives a slight tilt of her chin in permission, and she feels herself relax as he lets them drop down and pushes his free hand into her underwear. 

His fingers dance over her, dipping down against her entrance and drawing the wetness that’s gathering there out, before they quickly find her clit and start to circle it. The Doctor moans, a low sound that changes to a gasp when she remembers the horrible thing touching her stomach when the Master drags it downwards. 

“No,” she says firmly to his smirking face, as the blue coloured finger makes its way over her hip. “No, _no._ I mean it Master!”

“Oh come on, where’s your sense of adventure Doctor?”

“What, this isn’t already adventurous enough for you?”

He glances round. “Hm, I suppose you’re right,” he relents, tossing the thing over his shoulder. “Could be a little more exciting though.” Another grin breaks over his face as he presses two fingers up inside her. “What about if I woke one of your little friends up?” A twist of his fingers and a gasp tumbling from her mouth, “Or all of them?” A leering grin and the Doctor’s wide eyes flicker frantically round the room, only now noticing like a shock of cold water in the face that her friends _were_ right here in this room. - Unconscious, thankfully (well, not thankfully, it was awful, and she would save them, of course - but right now -) but right there in front of them while the Master started to pump two fingers into her, the heel of his hand grinding up against her clit. 

“Whatever would they say?” He continues gleefully, “Their precious hero Doctor with her trousers round her ankles, getting fingered by her arch enemy -”

“Don’t you _dare!”_

“Why?” he grins, “You were the one who suggested exhibitionism. And I know the thought gets you off, really,” he continues, leaning in to breath the words into her ear, his low voice dripping with seduction as he works her with his hand expertly, “the thought of them seeing you like this… all disheveled, exposed…” She gasps as she feels herself contract around his two fingers, “...wrecked for me… for your Master…”

“Hate - you -” She manages to get out between gasps, panting as he works her up quickly towards a climax, legs shifting restlessly and fingers curling into her palms where her wrists were trapped above her head. 

Suddenly, the Master pulls his hand out of her underwear and yanks it down as he drops to his knees, shoving her legs apart and inhaling deeply, staring at her before his gloating gaze flicks back up to hers. “Imagine if they could see how dripping wet you are for me. They could probably smell it from over there…”

The Doctor throws back her head as the Master buries his face between her legs, and despite the shame making her cheeks burn, she lets herself go and gives in to the rush of pleasure between her thighs, groaning as he tongues at her rapidly. 

“Don’t stop!” She gasps, yanking against the restraints, speaking very quickly, “There! There there there there - ah - _ah!”_

She hates herself as she comes against his mouth, his rough beard scratching at her and making her thighs twitch as she grinds down against his face, letting him lap at her until he’s wrung every last morsel of pleasure from her shaking form. 

“Now can you release me so I can save my friends?” She pants when he has drawn her knickers and trousers back up her legs, and risen back to his feet, arrogantly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He brings the backs of his fingers, glistening with the evidence of her pleasure to her own lips, pressing them there, and she frowns, turning her face away. He gives a heavy sigh. 

“I _told you_ , Doctor. I didn’t come here to rescue you.” he says as he drops his hand. She frowns at him. 

“Then what was all this for? - No,” her eyes widen as she sees him bend to snatch up the finger he’d tossed to the floor, holding it up again with a wicked smirk. “No - you can’t possibly mean to -”

The last thing the Doctor sees before the room goes back is the Master’s laughing face as he shoves the finger back into her ear. 

\--


	8. Villa Diodati

Running full speed into the darkened bedroom, the Doctor stops dead at the sight of the figure on the bed, stomach leaping at the fright.

“Boo.”

She scowls at the Master. “I should’ve known you were involved in this.”

He raises his hands. “My hands are clean in this instance… I like your new friend though. Could do with a bit of oil.”

Her scowl deepening, she looks at him for a moment, before striding over to the bed, taking a swing and letting her fist connect with his jaw. 

“Oh -  _ ow!” _ He says, clutching his face, stretching his jaw out and giving his head a shake.

“That blew the cobwebs away.”

“That’s for what you did to me on that space station!”

The Master laughs. “Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy that.”

“Being forced back into my nightmares? Yes - loved it.”

“You’re welcome,” he smirks. 

She hits him in the face again. 

“Where’s the cyberman?”

“Oh - probably around somewhere. I told you, that’s nothing to do with -”

She punches him again.

“ _ Ouch _ ,” he says, stretching his jaw out again, and she can see a real flash of anger in his eyes when he turns his head back round to glare back at her. “Now I’m all for playing rough,  _ dear,”  _ he growls, seizing her arm. “But let’s at least agree on a safe word.”

The Doctor has approximately two seconds to clock the dangerous glint in his eye, and for her own two to widen before he is yanking at her arm, toppling her down over his lap.

“No!” She gasps, his hand planting firmly in between her shoulder blades and keeping her pressed over his knee where she struggles, as he smooths his other over the curve of her behind.

“Safe word?” He repeats, a prompt this time, spoken with the smile of a crocodile ready to swallow whole a tiny little fish for lunch. She was the fish.

She’s not playing his game. She is absolutely  _ not _ playing his game like this, here, now, with a lone cyberman on the loose and her friends in mortal danger - that would be stupid, and reckless, and idiotic and -

“Gallifrey,” she blurts out when he squeezes her backside with his hand, and then he’s throwing her coat out the way where it splits in the middle and fumbling under her to unfasten her trousers and oh - she hadn’t realised he was actually going to  _ undress her  _ and this is really a terrible idea -

She gasps when his palm connects with her backside through the thin cotton of her underwear once he’s got her trousers shoved down her thighs. The Doctor bites her lip, hands balled into fists in the bedsheets as arousal and desire flames and rushes between her legs, flooding her underwear in seconds. He smacks her again.

“You’re ruining these panties Doctor,” he says, smugly plucking at the damp cloth covering her crotch and making her choke out a moan, hips twitching. 

“Take them off then.” The words tumble from her lips before she can register them a bad idea.

His palm connects with her arse again. “What was that?”

“Pull them down,” she blurts out, cheeks flaming, throbbing between her legs. 

It was always like this between them. Push and pull. First the Master with the upper hand, then the Doctor. She submits to him like she’s done a thousand times before. Tomorrow, he will submit to her. 

Fingers hook into the top of her underwear and he yanks them down, leaving her bare to the punishment of his heavy hand. She moans when he hits her again, palm smacking against one cheek, then the other, and then his fingers are sliding between her legs, feeling her where she’s wet and aching.

She nearly comes right then.

_ Shouldn’t be doing this _ , she thinks frantically again - senses strained to listen out for approaching footsteps even as she lays over the Master’s lap and lets him do as he wills with her. 

He’s hitting her harder now, hand connecting with the skin of her bottom with a resounding  _ thwack  _ each time, her growing more sore with every strike. When he plunges three fingers inside her she nearly screams, body contracting around him, and he pumps them into her three times before withdrawing and spanking her again, hard.

“Please,” she gasps, earning herself another smack, “Master,” she moans.

He moves his other hand down between her legs, feeling her roughly, fingers slipping and sliding with slick noises that make her cheeks burn as he squeezes her arse before withdrawing that hand, and she braces herself, teeth sunk into her bottom lip.

When he hits her again she comes, one of his hands on her cunt, the other spanking her roughly, her whole body shuddering over his lap.

She isn’t exactly pleased with herself  _ - _ or at least, she knows she certainly shouldn’t be - but when he has left and she is dressed and perched on the end of that same bed, backside smarting sharply where she’s sitting on it, the physical reminder of their encounter there and in the wetness in her underwear, the Doctor cannot keep the self-confident smirk off her lips as she waits for the cyberman to approach.

\--


	9. Before the Cyberwar

So it may have been a bit cruel of her to send her friends down into the junk room on board the Tardis with a list for the equipment she needed to rig up, knowing full well she could easily get lost in there for four days, and she _knew_ roughly where everything was. 

But she needed this. She didn’t know what she was walking in to (didn’t know if she would make it out), guilt was consuming her and she’d fast lost control of a dangerous situation that had escalated into something catastrophic. She just needed an hour. One hour, to get her head back in order, to remember how to _breathe_ , then she’d go down and rescue them. She’s allowed to be a little selfish sometimes isn’t she?

“Sure you remember how to use one of those?” The Master snipes as the Doctor prods the strap-on she’s wearing at his arse. 

“I’ll let you be the judge of that,” she replies smoothly, pressing the lubed up toy to his entrance before pushing in. 

He gives a strangled sound beneath her, on his hands and knees on her bed (a bed, might have been hers), and she has _missed this_ , watching as she disappears inside him and lamenting that she cannot feel it the way she used to. Still, the part of the toy that’s slipped inside herself nudges at her pleasantly as she presses in deeper, and she grinds her hips down, chasing the pressure against her clit. 

He’s tight, she can feel it in the resistance as she nudges her hips forward even though she cannot feel it directly, and the knowledge that she’s likely his first in this body gives her a significant amount of satisfaction, curling the corners of her lips upward as she plants a hand on each of his cheeks and spreads him open so she can push in deeper. 

A grunt leaves his lips, and she can feel the tension in his body, see the slight tremble to his limbs and the whiteness of his knuckles where his hands are fisted in her pillow. 

“That’s it,” she hisses, one hand smoothing up over his back, a fine sheen of sweat already building on his smooth dark skin, “Take it. Take it like you always do,” she gloats, some semblance of a mirror to his own words as he’d fucked her in an alleyway in Hong Kong.

The Master is quiet now she’s moving, and the Doctor is certain he’s biting down hard enough on the inside of his cheek to draw blood to keep himself so, his breath coming out ragged, and hitching with every shove of her hips. She isn’t gentle. There’s far too much history and pain between them for either of them to want that, hurting each other more of a love letter by now than sweet kisses or soft promises could ever be. 

The part of the toy that’s inside her is too small for her to get much pleasure from, and the pressure on her clit not quite direct enough, but the way their bodies grind and slap together, the noises they make as they move and the sight of him bent over for her like this is more than enough to send her careening towards an orgasm as she fucks him. 

“Say my name,” she orders. 

“Doctor,” he obliges, voice rough and a little choked. She leans forward over his back, reaches round beneath him and grasps his swollen cock. 

“Again.”

“Doctor!” Definitely choked that time, followed by a hoarse moan as she squeezes him, shoving her hips harder into him, moving faster, almost frantically now, twisting and pulling at him, nails scraping and hand rough. 

“Again,” she growls, moving quicker still, “Say my name when you come.”

 _“Doctor!_ ” His yell echoes around them as she tugs at him, fucks into him and he spills out all over the bed and himself and her hand. She releases him, grasping his hip, uncaring that she smears his come all over him, gripping tight to him for purchase as she uses him to get herself off, knees spread, hips grinding forward frantically, finally coming with a shout that drowns out the whimpering noises he’s making beneath her. 

“You’ll pay for that,” the Master tells her, after she has withdrawn and tossed the glistening toy aside, collapsed down beside him, both of them a heap on ruined bedsheets. 

She turns her head, eyes him evenly. “I know,” she says, and gets up out of the bed to leave, already tingling in anticipation.

\--


	10. The Panopticon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one! A little longer one to finish it off 😉

She’s anxious and stressed and he takes her by surprise when he whirls abruptly in the hallway just before the panopticon and presses her to the wall. 

“Wha -?” She just about manages as he tugs down her trousers and underwear and reaches to fumble clumsily between her legs. 

“I want to fuck you one last time…” Her stomach flips a bit, before he continues, “- before you know everything.”

The Doctor swallows hard, leaning back against the wall as he unbuttons himself. “Thought you weren’t telling me,” she replies dryly, wondering why she’s letting him do this in the ruins of Gallifrey, why she’s letting him nudge her legs apart, trousers round her ankles and knickers caught round her thighs as he brings his cock between her legs, why she’s letting him stoop to push up into her. 

“Oh no, not telling you,” he tells her as he starts to thrust into her roughly, “Not like this anyway. But you _will_ learn.”

He sounds angry. - He’s always angry, on some level, but it drips from him in this moment, fury emanating from every pore as he forces his anger into her, his pace punishing, wall bruising against her back and the Master’s breath hot by her neck. 

She lets him fuck her here, clinging to him almost desperately, chasing the franticness of their coupling, grasping at it for some sort of semblance of reality in the ruins of their planet, the hallway they had walked as children, then adults, Theta always feeling like she never quite belonged here, yet now… with it destroyed, aching for what she once hated desperately. 

It’s over quickly - too quickly for her to find much pleasure from it, and she’s dazed and blinking, head not quite in the present when the Master pushes her down to the dusty floor, ripping her trousers and underwear the rest of the way off her legs. 

Kneeling up between her knees, he shucks his coat, surprising her by bundling it up and shoving it beneath her instead of tossing it aside, raising her hips a little. Her thighs fall open as she lays panting, watching as he methodically rolls up his shirt sleeves and secures them there around his elbows. She grows wetter, and bites down on her bottom lip, squirming as she watches him through hooded eyes. 

Still sitting back on his haunches, he shoves her legs a bit further apart before pressing his right hand between her legs, feeling her roughly then pushing three fingers into her. The Doctor gasps, back arching. 

“What did you mean before?” She asks warily as he starts to pump his fingers in her. “That you wouldn’t tell me like this?”

“Hush dear,” he coos, the pseudo smooth tone of his voice reverberating right through her body and making her toes curl. “All in good time.” He withdraws again, drags his hand through her folds, slipping over her easily. “And right now is the time for me to _fuck you_.”

She gasps when he presses back inside her - four fingers this time, stretching her enough to make her hold her breath, hands flying to his sides to grasp at his waistcoat. He works in deeper and the Doctor exhales, eyes rolling back a little as he curls his fingers up towards himself inside her, massaging at her steadily. 

She can hear the slick sounds his fingers are making as he fucks her and wonders what he’s getting out of this, wonders why he hadn’t just continued on with his macabre grand tour once he’d finished inside her. 

“What do you think our younger selves would have said?” He’s speaking again, voice shrouded with amusement but tinted with an edge of pain he cannot fully disguise. “If they could see us here now? In these very halls… like _this_.”

She wonders indeed. The two of them, thousands of years old and still reducing each other to _this._ Primal, she thinks as he crudely thrusts his fingers in and out of her, watches him watching her intently, a glint in his eye and a twitch at his lips as he fucks her. In hindsight, she should have wondered at that wicked glint, at the calculating twinkle in his gaze, but it isn’t until she has her head tossed back, legs splayed, moaning out loud that she realises he is persistently starting to push against her harder, and when she feels his thumb knocking her entrance tucked into his palm that she realises his intention.

“Wait!” She gasps, eyes flying wide open, “You’re not gonna -!?”

“Hush love,” he mocks, “You can take it.” A wicked smirk twists at his face, and she knows they have come full circle with tossing that phrase at one other. 

She clutches at his wrist, eyes wide. “I don’t think -” She may not have been on the receiving end of this particular act before but she has been on the giving, and she knows from experience it requires a certain level of relaxation that she absolutely is not feeling in that moment. “I can’t,” she insists, a puff of air exhaled as she pants quickly. She feels his thumb slip to her clit, rub at her and make her back arch, pleasure flooding her loins.

“Yes you can,” he growls, dark eyes boring into hers with fixated intensity. “You just have to let me in.”

A shock of heat going through her as she feels his mind nudge at her own (and how she _hates_ the fact that makes her grow warm rather than cold), the Doctor feels herself give in, releasing his wrist and laying back on the hard floor. 

_Don’t hurt me,_ she asks quietly, spoken only into his head and not out loud so it’s okay, and the Master grins wickedly in response. 

_I won’t_ , he vows. “Not like this, anyway.”

She hasn’t the presence of mind to interrogate him about that, because he’s pressing in, in deeper to her, stretching her slowly, persistently open as he moves his other hand down to massage at her clit simultaneously. 

He murmurs inside her mind as he presses into her, most of it incoherent but the tone soothing, intended to relax her as he pushes her body to its limits. The Doctor’s head spins, with thoughts, questions, emotions - being here like this on this floor with _him_ , after what he’d done (what she’d done), but he’s there, inside her, in her head and in her body and it aches and burns white hot in its intensity, and she sends back telepathic pleas for more. She can feel his smugness, feel the urge that shoots through him to _hurt her_ quickly suppressed (why is she trusting this monster? Why does the possibility that he could snap her in an instant make her blood run hotter?) and then she feels the knuckles of his fingers and thumb bridge her, ripping a scream from her throat, and his hand is inside her. 

“Told you you could take it,” he says, and she thinks there may be a hint of pride in his voice she tries not to decipher. She opens her eyes (when had she squeezed them shut?) to gaze up at him, her breath coming out shallow and quick, body trembling with the exertion. He curls his fingers where they are nestled deep inside her, stroking at her inner walls, and she gives another shout, whole body jolting with sensation. She feels unbelievably full of him, the Master, tucked into every corner of her mind, slid into every fibre of her being like hot oil poured over cobblestones. She shudders with it, and when he rubs at her clit again with the fingers of his other hand she climaxes instantly, a sound tearing its way from her throat she didn’t even know she was capable of making as her whole body shakes violently. He waits for her to come down, waits until she has stopped whimpering and her inner walls ceased fluttering around him until he starts to caress her inside again, nudging up with his hand in tiny movements, letting her feel that she was still full of him, reminding her that he was still pressed so deeply and intimately inside her as he massages at her clit too and squeezes another orgasm from her trembling form. 

She comes twice more, the final two times in succession before she gasps out a plea for him to stop, certain the edges of her vision were starting to dance with the stars of unconsciousness and not just pleasure. Her thighs quiver as he slides out of her, hips twitching, a hiss slipping from between her teeth, and when he is free of her she curls onto her side, sweating and panting, hands clenched into fists, cunt burning and body wrung out with sensations. 

A hand appears in front of her face, and she blinks at it, still trying to get her vision to stop spinning. 

“Come on,” says the Master as she stares up at him, fully dressed again, hair smoothed back and coat pulled straight. His eyes are still rimmed red and hollow though, and the shadow across his face is even darker than before. “We’re not done,” he tells her. “In fact we’re only just about to get started.”

Her legs tremble but she forces herself to stand on them, letting the Master pull her up to her feet and taking her clothes from him, his hand on her arm to balance her as she quickly pulls them back on. 

“That’s it,” he says, buttoning her trousers for her and smoothing a hand down over her coat. He reaches up and swipes a thumb over her cheek to brush dry the track of a tear. When had that even slipped from her eye? “Must have you looking your best.” There’s a hint of something beneath his words, a smugness playing about them. “Because your life’s about to never be the same again.”

She frowns. “What does that _mean?”_

He looks at her for a moment, a smirk on his lips that she’s silently debating whether or not to try and smack off before he tugs the lapels of his coat straight and spins flamboyantly on his heel. 

“Come along dear!” He says, marching off towards the entrance to the panopticon, “Time’s a wasting!”

The Doctor takes a deep breath, and follows after the Master.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... you can't say I haven't tried to keep it varied 😂
> 
> Thanks for reading! This little series was pointless but it's been fun to write, I really hope you enjoyed it. Your feedback has been much appreciated, please drop me a comment to let me know what you thought if you have the time! ❤️


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